The Colour and the Shape
by The Rocking Horse Winner
Summary: Inspired by The Foo Fighters album w same title. GE solve case, the fallout of which tests the boundaries of their friendpartnership. Logan deals w personal demons. BA ship ambigous. EamesLogan date. Sounds better than summary. I don't own LOCI, sadly
1. My Hero

Chapter One – My Hero

Alex Eames yawned for what must have been the fiftieth time that morning. The German chocolate flavored coffee with a double shot of espresso she bought on her way to work did not seem to be doing its job. She didn't normally spend money on gourmet coffee. There was plenty of coffee available at One Police Plaza, and it was mostly free.

Desperate times, however, called for desperate measures.

She and Goren had caught a difficult case involving the kidnapping of a Hudson University coed, who happened to be the daughter of one of the mayor's top executives. What made this case difficult was not its intricacy. It had been an easy solve. The young lady was kidnapped by a distant relative looking for a few extra dollars. She was recovered after a S.W.A.T team raid on an apartment in Yonkers.

Seeing the girl bound, gagged, and chained to a radiator is what made Alex fall apart. She had been able to remain detached up to that point.

Nightmares had plagued her for the next three nights. Vivid sensations of the horror she experienced first-hand replaced rest with terror, dominating virtually every moment of REM sleep. Last night marked her first night of sleep nightmare free since the raid, but her body still needed to catch up on the rest it missed. Alex thought that gourmet coffee would stave off her body's effort to recuperate until a more convenient time, but now she had the drudgery of paperwork to contend with.

"Don't look like you're having too much fun there, Eames," Captain Danny Ross playfully chided as he sauntered past Eames' desk, coffee mug in tow.

Eames chuckled lightly, wiping away tears that had formed as a result of her yawn.

"In Ancient Greek culture, yawing was believed to be a result of the soul attempting to leave the body in an effort to rest with the gods in the skies," Robert Goren stated without looking up.

"Remember our rule," Eames inquired as she politely folded her hands and placed them at the center of her desk.

"What rule," Goren asked, removing papers from a manila envelope.

"The no quirky facts before eleven o'clock rule."

Goren looked at his watch. "It's 10:57."

"So I still have three minutes," Eames retorted, not missing a beat.

Goren looked up at her for the first time that morning, cocked an eyebrow, shook his head, sighed, and returned to his work.

"Don't look at me in that tone of voice," Eames cried, wadding a piece of paper and tossing it at her partner's head.

"Ding, ding, ding. End of Round One," a familiar voice cut in.

Eames turned around in an effort to face the source of the voice. "Well look what the cat drug in," she snarked.

"Glad to see you too, Detective Eames," Mike Logan stated sarcastically, sticking a hand in his pants pocket. "Goren," Logan nodded in his direction.

"Logan," Goren acknowledged with a nod, nose still buried in paperwork.

"Heard you guys got the collar on that kidnapping. You found her in Queens," Logan questioned sitting on the edge of a nearby desk.

"Yonkers. Four days ago," Eames responded, straightening a stack of papers. "Are you sill working at the 2-7?"

"Yeah," Logan replied, "I had the choice of either riding the desk here at OnePP or filling in at the 2-7."

"That's your old precinct, isn't it," inquired Eames.

"Yeah. I'm filling in for a detective who went on maternity leave," Logan said.

"Are you and your partner getting along well," Eames asked, shooting her partner a quick glance. He was too engrossed in his work to seem to notice.

"The guy I'm with now was partnered with my old partner before I…left."

"So it's all in the family?"

"Pretty much," Logan said with a chuckle.

"I thought you were reassigned a partner after Wheeler left?"

"Falacci. She decided that MCS wasn't for her. She put in to be shipped to SVU. Worked out last I heard. Ross wanted to put me at a desk for the time being, but I asked to go over to the 2-7 when I heard there was an opening. It's not permanent though. I'll be back in about four months. That's when my partner should be done overseas."

"Logan. How are things at the 2-7," Ross asked, taking a sip from his now full mug of coffee.

"Going good, Cap," Logan answered, standing up.

"I hope they realize that you're still on loan," Ross joked, giving Logan a slap on the back as he passed between the desks.

Logan watched Ross walk into his office. "He seems chipper this morning," Logan said after Ross shut the door behind him.

"I know. It's kind of scary," Eames replied.

"I give it until lunch," Goren chimed in, placing the pen he was using in a container on his desk.

Logan smiled to himself as the elevator door closed in front of him. He had visited One Police Plaza for two reasons. The first reason was fairly innocuous. There was some paper work that needed to be dropped off pertaining to a case he and Green were working on. It wasn't mandatory that the papers be dropped off in person, but doing so allowed him to accomplish the second goal of his visit: to make a date with Alex Eames.

He had been thinking of her a great deal lately, and he wasn't quite sure why. He had always thought that she was cute, but had never thought of her anymore than that until recent times. He couldn't have done anything about it before he transferred out of the Major Case Squad, but now that he was working at the 27th Precinct, 'fraternizing' with her wouldn't be as taboo.

Logan felt somewhat awkward asking Alex out in front of Goren. He'd heard talk of an affair between the two since he joined the MCS. He'd seen no evidence of it himself; even while working several cases with them. He was sure that the same kinds of rumors had gone around about him and the three female partners he had on the squad.

"Bobby, what just happened here," Eames asked in a hushed tone as she leaned forward.

"It looks like you're going on a date," Goren said, clicking his pen.

"Is that what it sounded like to you?"

"Yes. He asked you what you were doing for dinner tonight. You said that you weren't doing anything. He invited you out. You said yes. He didn't invite me, and I was sitting right here. So in my book, that's a date."

"Everything happened so fast."

"Are you having second thoughts?"

"I haven't been able to have any thoughts on it, really," Eames said, her voice slightly excited, but still quiet. "How did I end up going on a date with Mike Logan?"

"We've been over this," Goren countered impatiently, sitting his pen on top of a stack of folders.

"I know. It's just that…I don't know how to respond to any of this. I'm excited to have a date. Lord knows it has been a long time. But with Logan? He's about the second to last person I would think would ask me out."

"Who's the last, pray tell?"

"You, of course."

"I would have thought Captain Ross."

"Ok. So Logan is the third to last. The Captain is the second to last, but that's besides the point. I don't think of Logan in that way. And now he thinks that I do. And now we're going on a…a date."

"You could always cancel," Goren offered.

"I can't to that," Alex countered, "Then he would think that I didn't like him."

"But you don't."

"Not in _that_ way, but I do think that he's a nice guy. If I turn him down, he might think that I hate him. So I can't turn him down…But I can't go on a date with him either. Are you sure that this is supposed to be a date."

"Goren. Eames. Quit yakking like two schoolgirls and clock out for lunch before I shove more paperwork on you," Ross grouched as he locked up his office.

Goren shot Eames a 'what did I tell you' look as they both stood and made their way to the elevator.

"You've been grinning like a Cheshire cat since we left OnePP," Detective Ed Green snickered at his temporary partner, "What for?"

"I've got a date."

"Figures. Briscoe told me about you," Green reprised glancing at Logan briefly before returning his attention to the road.

"Whatever Briscoe told you was probably true, but I'm not that kind of guy any more," Logan defended, lifting his hands in surrender.

"So you've mellowed out in your old age?"

"Watch yourself, Green," Logan warned, giving Green a playful nudge.

"So who's the lucky lady?"

"Her name is Alex Eames. She's a lead detective at MCS."

"Eames. Is she the one who was kidnapped recently?"

"That's her. Tough as nails, though. And not a bad looker. We're going out tonight."

"Got any big plans?" Green stopped the car on the side of the street near a hot dog stand.

"Dinner. Maybe a trip to my place, if she's up to it." Logan opened his door and stepped out onto the sidewalk.

"I see," Green said incredulously as he shut his door and approached the street vendor.

"I'm not that kind of guy anymore," Logan yelled after him.

"You've been having nightmares recently, haven't you," Goren stated as a matter of fact. He sprinkled more cinnamon into his pumpkin flavored latte. Eames looked down at her still steaming apple cider, biting at a piece of dead skin on her chapped lips. "I knew that you shouldn't have gone on that raid."

"You guys needed me," she defended weakly, reaching in her pocket. Goren watched as she applied a fresh layer of lip balm. "I'm fine. I just got a little shaken up, but I'm over it."

"You would tell me if you were…not fine…right?"

Eames' eyes connected with the deep gaze Goren was giving her across the table. She tried to break eye contact, but his eyes pursued hers, his head slightly tilting to his left. She felt an inexplicable lump rise in her throat.

Alex felt both grateful and angry at Bobby at the same. She was grateful for his concern toward her. Several members of the squad had gone out of their way to tell her how her kidnapping had deeply shaken her partner. He had been her hero, refusing to give up when everyone else presumed that she was dead.

But she was angry at him. His concern forced her to deal with feelings that she did not feel ready to conquer. It was easier for her to push the feelings of fear and vulnerability away than to face them directly. But there was Bobby, holding her heart in his gentle hands, subtly showing her parts of herself that she would rather remain blind to. He was exposing her heart, not to hurt, but to help. He was helping her to resolve her feelings about the kidnapping in the same way he helped her to solve Joe's murder. And for that she was grateful to him.

Eames swallowed hard and nodded. Goren broke his gaze, allowing her to look away.

"I'm sorry," he apologized offering her his napkin. Eames shook her head, wiping her tears away gingerly with her index fingers.

"I'm okay. It's PMS." Goren sat back, appalled. "It as a joke," she reassured him, "No reason for your ears to get red."

"What," vocalized Goren.

"Your ears turn red any time I talk about anything that has to do with menstruation." Goren's ears were almost scarlet now.

"They do not," he retorted indignantly. Eames reached into the pocket of her jacket, opened her compact, and turned the mirror Goren's direction. Eames noticed a flicker of a grin play across his lips and disappear as quickly as it had manifested.

"Who had the pastrami on rye," interrupted the waitress. Goren signaled the waitress, moving his cup out of the way. Eames removed her fork from the utensil wrapping in preparation for her salad.

As they ate, Alex's thoughts wandered to her impending date with Mike Logan. She still wasn't entirely certain about how to feel about it. She was elated that she was going out, but at the same time it was difficult for her to get excited about going out with Mike.

She thought he was nice to look at, and he had always been kind to her. Mike seemed to be kind to almost any woman he encountered, though. She knew that he'd had a reputation in the past for being a womanizer, but she had seen nothing to date to indicate that he was still that way.

Alex smiled inwardly as she thought of how smoothly he'd asked her on a date. He was so smooth, in fact, that she was still somewhat unsure of if they were actually going on a date.

"Stop being dumb, Alex," she thought. "Men still find you attractive enough to take you out on dates."

"I had a good time tonight, Mike," Alex professed with a grin. Mike's smile broadened, he had been smiling most of the night.

"I'm glad," Mike said, quickly glancing Alex's direction. The date was better than he could have hoped for. The conversation was light yet interesting. The restaurant's service was impeccable, and the food was excellent. Alex's smile was as radiant now as it had been when he first picked her up at her house. "I had a good time with you."

They were on their way back to Alex's house. Mike had decided not to invite her back to his apartment because he did not want to give her the wrong impression. He wasn't sure if she would invite him in or not, so he planned for not.

He stole another glance at her while they waited at a stoplight. She looked incredible tonight, he thought. She was wearing a playful maroon colored dress that came just below her knees. He wasn't sure what she had done with her hair; all he knew was that it made her look good. Half of it was in some kind of pony-tail looking thing while the other half was down, brushing her neck.

As he pulled into her driveway, he felt a brief wave of nervousness sweep over him. He was not sure how the rest of the night was going to go. Although they were completely comfortable talking to one another, they had not made any physical contact the entire night, except when he helped her put on and take off her coat.

"I'll get that," he said, his hand lightly brushing hers as she reached for the door handle. Mike exited the car, hurried to the passenger's side door, and opened it. Alex gracefully stepped out of the car. He walked Alex to her door, ignoring the butterflies that began to flutter in his stomach.

"Thank you," she said when they reached her front door. Mike smiled down at her. She smiled up at him. He leaned down and kissed her, placing his hand on her back. He pulled away, with his hand still on her back, and smiled.

"Good night," he breathed, running his hand down her arm and squeezing her hand as he walked away.

"Good night," she said, returning the squeeze. He looked at her one more time as she unlocked the door and entered her house.

Alex heaved a heavy sigh as she shut the door behind her. She could hear Mike's car turn over and she saw the flicker of headlights play along her living room wall.

She felt a tinge of excitement as she relived the moment she and Mike just shared. She smiled, bringing her fingers to her lips.


	2. Up in Arms

Chapter Two - Up in Arms

"It's not exactly my idea of a housewarming gift," Eames deadpanned looking down at the corpse that lay in a corner of Sarah Whittaker's basement. Whittaker was preparing to begin moving her furniture into the house that day, but finding a dead body deterred her plans.

The victim appeared to be a young man in his early to mid twenties. His body was crumpled in the corner or the dungeon like basement. Blood and brain matter had coagulated within large concave area that appeared to take up much of the left side of his head.

"He was hit from behind," Goren pronounced, inspecting the river rock wall next to the body. "His head hit this wall before he fell to the ground. See? There's blood on this rock, and it matches that gash on the other side of his face." Goren stooped down next to the corpse. He brought the sleeve of the victim's peacoat to his nose. "Marijuana." Goren poked at the coat's pocket with his pen. "There's something in here," he said lifting the pocket's flap, exposing the top of a plastic sandwich bag. Goren carefully removed the bag from the pocket. He opened the bag and smelled its contents. "This is marijuana mixed with a bunch of spices and dried leaves."

"A drug deal gone bad," Eames sighed as she stooped next to Goren.

"Or the victim was a dealer who smoked his supply and was trying to get out of paying for it," Goren said. He put the sandwich bag into an evidence bag. He stood as he opened his leather binder and scrawled a few notes. "Have we found the weapon yet?"

"CSU found a pipe in the bushes just outside the basement door. It appeared to have blood and hair matted to it. We'll know more when it gets back from the lab," Eames sighed as she and Goren walked up the stairs that lead to the kitchen. Just then, her phone rang. "It's Mike," she said, flipping the phone open. "Hi," she greeted cheerfully, "We're just leaving a crime scene."

Goren opened the front door for Eames as she chatted giddily. She tossed him the keys as they walked toward the SUV. He was slightly irritated that Eames was taking a personal call. He wanted to discuss some of his thoughts on the case with her, but she was too busy with Logan. He had called her during work every day for the last six weeks just to talk about what seemed like absolutely nothing.

"We're on our way back to OnePP…Sure…we can go out tonight….my place…what do you have in mind…we'll talk later…see you tonight." Eames closed her phone and placed it back into her coat pocket.

"We'll need to have the lab analyze the stuff that was in that bag," Goren stated. "I'm pretty sure the guy was a dealer. I wouldn't be surprised if CSU found more bags like it on his person."

"If the vic was trying to fool his supplier, why is he dead? The supplier wouldn't get his money that way."

"Unless it was a set-up," Goren mused.

Captain Ross heaved a deep sigh as Goren finished apprising him of his theory of what had happened to the young man in the basement. "So why was he in that basement?"

"The basement probably served as a meetup for the neighborhood pushers," Eames said, "The house had been abandoned for almost a year."

"A small-time, suburban drug trafficking ring. Great." Ross heaved another sigh. "It's been a long day. It's Friday. Go home. Get some rest. I'll see you guys Monday."

Alex smiled inwardly as she grabbed her coat off of he hook. Mike would be meeting her at her house as soon as he got off of work. The thought of seeing him made her heart skip a beat.

Mike and Alex had been dating for six weeks, and things were going well between them. They spent hours talking on the phone and in person. He showered her with attention which made her feel absolutely giddy.

Alex checked the display on her phone for any missed calls or messages. She noticed that Mike had sent her a text message. She chuckled to herself, thinking of how long it probably took him to write the message.

_Do u want Chinese food? _

Alex started to reply to the message, but thought better of it, knowing that it would probably be easier for Mike if she called him. He was not very tech savvy, but he was working on it.

She dialed Mike's number as she made her way to her car. Mike agreed to pick up some takeout on his way to Alex's house.

Alex reflected on the last time they were together. After much debate, they had opted to go to his apartment. They had spent the evening on his sofa eating popcorn and watching _Citizen Kane_. The heat in his building had gone out and the apartment was freezing. He turned on the oven to generate heat, and they cuddled on his sofa using his bedspread to keep warm.

"Hey there, gorgeous," Mike said after he opened her car door for her. He had been waiting in his car for her to arrive.

"Hey," she cooed, slipping her hand into his. He bent down and brushed his lips against her forehead. Alex unlocked the door, tossing her keys and coat onto a nearby chair in the breezeway. "I need to take a shower. You can set up dinner."

Mike ran his fingers through her hair as he pulled Alex into a tight embrace. "Hurry back," he said, letting her go. He walked to the island in her kitchen and placed the food on the counter. He went back through the living room and placed his overcoat and sport coat on the chair with Alex's keys and coat in the breezeway.

Fifteen minutes later, Alex reappeared wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and a baseball tee. Her hair was in a wet ponytail. "I was too hungry to wait on drying my hair and stuff," she apologized. Mike smiled and handed her a plate full of food. "Are you going to wear your gun all night," she asked, gesturing to his holster.

"I forgot I was wearing it," he said removing his gun from the holster and placing it on the counter. He tossed his holster across the room, and it landed draped over the back of one of the dining room chairs.

"Nice toss." Mike sat in the chair that his holster landed on. Alex joined him at the table.

After Mike had finished his food, he put his plate in the sink and went back to the table. He stood behind Alex's chair and began to rub her shoulders. "Did you have a good day," he inquired, giving her shoulders a squeeze.

Alex nodded, "Did you?"

"Pretty good. It's better now that I'm with you." He bent down and scooped her up out of the chair. Alex squealed with surprise, kicking in feigned protest. He pressed his lips against hers as she clasped her arms around his neck.

He gently laid her on the sofa, still kissing her. Alex tried to sit up as he loosened his tie attempted to join her on the sofa. He gently pressed her shoulders into the cushions.

"Mike," she breathed, pushing her hands against his chest.

"What," he sighed, still in hot pursuit.

"Mike," she said again, pushing him away more firmly this time. "I'm not ready for this."

"What's wrong?" He stroked the side of her face with the back of his hand.

"I …We can't." She looked away from him, sweeping her hair out of her face.

"Why not?"

"I'm not ready," Alex said firmly, staring directly into his eyes. She was speaking truthfully. Although she could feel herself beginning to fall for Mike, she was not ready to take their relationship to a physical level. She was happy the way things were going.

"Alex. I want to be with you," Mike professed cupping the side of her face.

"Mike," Alex sighed. He silenced her with a kiss.

"C'mon," Mike whispered, attempting to lay her down again. She pushed him away once more. Mike felt a wave of frustration and anger come over him. He was frustrated because things were progressing so slowly between them; this was the first relationship that he had been in for six weeks that had not crossed, even slightly, into the physical. He felt angry because he could not understand why Alex was being so resistant to his overtures. "What in the world is your problem?"

"I told you. I'm not ready."

"I don't understand why you're acting this way. I'm your boyfriend for crying out loud."

"What does that have to do with the price of tea in China?"

"It means that a guy shouldn't have to beg," Mike yelled. "I bet things would be different if I were Bobby Goren."

"What does Bobby have to do with any of this?" Alex shouted, puzzled.

"I'm just saying that things would be a lot different," Mike sneered disgustedly as he stood.

"You're blowing this way out of proportion," Alex shrieked following him as he put his arm through his holster and retrieved his gun from the counter.

"I'm not blowing anything out of proportion," he snapped stomping to the breezeway.

"Mike...," she appealed, placing her hand on his forearm. "I want to be with you, too. Just not in that way. Not now at least." Mike yanked his arm away. "Please don't leave," Alex pleaded.

Mike slammed the door behind him.

Alex reached for the door knob. "I'm not going to chase after him," she decided, letting her hand drop. Tears stung her eyes as she listened to the sound of Mike's car backing out of her driveway and speeding away from her house.

Alex was jolted from sleep by the sound of rapping on her front door. She pushed away the beige and cream colored afghan under which she had sobbed herself to sleep the previous night. After Mike had stormed out she retired to her sofa. She had wrapped herself in the afghan taking in the smell of Mike's cologne as she used it to muffle her sobs.

Her heart raced as she rose from the sofa and plodded in the direction of the front door. The hardwood floor was cold under her bare feet. She silently begged for it to be Mike at the door. When she reached breezeway, she stopped and took time to wipe away the sleep and mucous that had collected in the corners of her eyes. She took a deep breath as she turned the door knob.

"Bobby," she breathed, "I wasn't expecting you."

"I called you several times, but you didn't answer. I thought that I'd drop by to make sure everything was okay. Looking at you, I'm glad that I did. What's wrong?"

"I'm fine, Bobby."

"Don't lie to me," he said firmly, bearing a hole into her with his gaze. "Your eyes are red and puffy, and your face is tear-streaked."

"It's nothing," she heaved as she turned toward the living room. Bobby followed her, shutting the door behind him.

"Then why did you sleep on the sofa last night?" Alex turned and stared blankly at him. "The afghan," he said gesturing toward the sofa. "You had Chinese food last night."

"Stop it," Alex burst out, "please," she added weakly, noting the change in Bobby's expression.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong with you," Bobby replied, stubbornly folding his arms across his broad chest.

"Since when are you so concerned with my personal life," Alex snapped.

"You didn't answer your phone," Bobby answered simply, his voice almost childlike. "I got kind of worried about you."

Alex instantly realized the basis for his concern and regretted her previous comment. "I'm sorry. It…It's silly, really," she began sheepishly, "Mike and I had our first fight last night. It…I was upset about it all…I care about him a lot…my cell is back in my room and the cordless that I keep here in the living room is broken. I didn't hear them ring."

Bobby stood awkwardly not certain of what to say.

"Would you like some coffee," Alex offered, starting toward the kitchen.

Bobby nodded as he flopped down on the sofa. Alex returned with two steaming cups of coffee. Suddenly, the doorbell rang. Alex placed both cups on the coffee table. She walked toward the breezeway in anticipation. She opened the door.

"Hi," she said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Alex," Mike murmured letting himself in as he ran a hand through her hair. He turned to face her. She looked up at him. He could tell that her night was as rough as his. He grazed her hairline with his lips. Alex walked past him into the living room, hiding her face as she blinked away tears. Mike followed her. "I'm sorry for everything that I said last night. I was being a real…" His voice trailed off as he noticed Bobby sitting on the sofa for the first time. "What's this all about," Mike said his voice more accusing than questioning.

"I was just leaving," Bobby stated apologetically as he rose from the sofa.

"No. You don't need to leave. Apparently I was interrupting something," Mike fumed.

"You didn't interrupt a thing," said Bobby.

"It's not what you think," Alex began. She attempted to put her arms around Mike.

"Don't touch me," Mike barked, grabbing Alex's wrists. "I know exactly what's going on here."

"You're hurting me," Alex whimpered, trying to break his hold.

"Logan, calm down," Bobby ordered.

Mike tightened his grip. His large hands were like shackles around her petite wrists. "You couldn't wait to call him, could you," he sneered, his face almost touching Alex's. She could smell the cheap liquor that was heavy on his breath.

"That's enough," Bobby warned as he inched closer to them, "Let her go."

"You didn't want to be with me because you were saving it for him," he continued, ignoring Bobby's warning, "Weren't you," he yelled pushing her to the ground.

At that moment, something inside of Bobby snapped and caused his mind to go into a red haze. He punched Mike in the nose, causing his head to snap backward and his nose to gush with blood. Mike looked at his hands, momentarily dazed by the blood that was covering them. Bobby grabbed him by the collar and rammed him against the wall, pinning him there.

"Get your hands off me, you nut case," Mike spat. Bobby picked him up, bringing him to eye level. Mike promptly head-butted Bobby, causing him to release his grip.

"Stop," Alex screamed. She felt paralyzed and helpless as she watched Bobby and Mike scuffle.

Mike charged at Bobby with fists clenched. Bobby hip-checked him, causing him to fall. Bobby sank down to the ground and clamped his hands around Mike's neck. Mike instinctively attempted to pry Bobby's hands away as he gasped for air.

"Bobby," Alex screamed, but he didn't seem to notice. Mike lay flailing, his face becoming darker by the moment. "Bobby please stop it. You're hurting him." She crawled to where the two men were struggling. "Bobby! Stop it! You're going to kill him," she bellowed.

The sound of Alex's pleas caused Bobby to snap out of his haze. He immediately let go of Mike's neck. Mike coughed as color began to return to his face. Alex scooted away from the two men and cowered against the nearby wall. Mike continued to gasp.

"Get up," Bobby demanded as he towered over Mike. Sputtering, Mike gathered himself off of the floor. "Go." Bobby forcefully extended his arm, pointing toward the door with emphasis.

Mike looked toward Alex as he smoothed his shirt down and wiped his bloody nose on his sleeve. Alex, who was previously transfixed by the scene which played before her, turned her face away as Mike attempted to meet her gaze. Taking it as his cue to leave, he staggered out the front door without a word.

Bobby glared in the direction of the door until Mike disappeared. He then turned his attention to Alex. She sat with the side of her head pressed against the wall, her hand holding in a sob that was attempting to escape her throat. "Are you okay," he asked as he stooped next to her. Alex nodded her response. He noted the red marks that were heavy on her wrists.

"Leave…please," Alex whimpered as a tear escaped the corner of her eye.

"Are you sure you're okay," Bobby asked, ignoring Alex's request.

"I'm fine."

"Has he ever done this before," Bobby interrogated gesturing to her wrists.

"Bobby...," Alex began breathlessly.

"Answer me. Has he ever done this to you before," Bobby responded firmly.

"No," Alex snapped. "Why did you do that to him?"

"He grabbed you. He pushed you down. How was I supposed to act? He had no right to do that."

"And you had no right to get in the middle of it. I was going to handle it. I don't need you in my personal life, Bobby."

"Are you kidding me," Bobby retorted, "What was I supposed to do, watch him manhandle you? How…"

"Stop it," Alex interrupted, raising her hand. "You're just my partner."

"Okay. If that's how you want things," Bobby stated, rising from his position near Alex and walking out the door.

Mike eased himself onto his sofa, massaging his temples as he crossed his bare feet on the coffee table. His head was pounding both as a result of the beating he sustained previously and from the hangover that was beginning to come on in full force. He raked a hand through his wet hair as he let out a deep sigh. He reached into the pocket of his freshly laundered jeans in an attempt to retrieve his cell phone, but then remembered that his phone was sitting next to his keys, gun, and badge on his dresser. He had put it there before he took a shower.

"How did I get myself into this mess," he thought as he leaned his head against the back of the sofa. He covered his face with his hands. "Why did I do that? How could I have messed so much up? What was I thinking?" The thoughts rushed his mind like a tsunami. He began to replay the events of the last twenty-four hours in his mind.

He saw himself eating dinner with Alex, flirting with her between bites of Chow Mien, her toes playing with the hem of his pant leg as she smiled at him coyly. He felt her arms around his neck as he kissed her. He felt her push him away.

Her reaction to his overtures cut him deeply. Although he had only been with her for six weeks, Mike realized that he had never felt about anyone the way he felt about Alex Eames. That night he had planned to express his feelings to her. But she pushed him away…

He didn't know how to react so he did the only thing that he new how to do in that type of situation: overreact.

After he had stormed out of Alex's house, he came back to his own place. He used alcohol as a means to escape his pain. He was still a little drunk when he went to Alex's house that morning. He hoped to patch things up between them. He hadn't meant the things he said the previous night, and he was hoping that Alex would forgive him.

The sight of Goren, coupled with his impaired judgment, sent him into a kind of rage. He was surprised to see Goren, and it seemed to serve as confirmation to his accusations. Fueled by hurt, anger, and cheap whiskey he needed to lash out. He wanted to make Alex hurt as much as he did…

"Oh my God," he gasped. He was living his worst nightmare.

"No good deed goes unpunished," Bobby thought to himself as he entered his apartment. He immediately went into the bathroom and retrieved the first-aid kit from the medicine cabinet. He dabbed at the gash in his lip with an alcohol wipe, wincing at the stinging sensation. Head-butting was the one good hit that Logan had gotten on him.

Bobby wasn't proud of himself for resorting to violence. He had always prided himself on using his ability to reason to sort through a problem, but seeing Logan hurt Eames was too much for him to stomach. He could not stand to see a man put his hands on a woman in that way. He had seen too much of it in his lifetime.

Watching Eames fall to the ground was too much for Bobby, and his protective instinct overrode his attempt to verbally diffuse the situation. He had lost virtually all control of himself. He realized that it was only the sound of Eames' screams that kept him from strangling Logan.

And Eames was upset with him. That he could not understand. Eames asked him why he had fought with Logan, as if she didn't know.

Bobby could only arrive at two explanations for her reaction. His initial idea was that Mike had abused her previously, but he trusted that Eames was truthful in her response to his inquiry. His second idea was that seeing two men that she cared about fighting could have been too much for her. He went with his second hunch.

Although he understood that Eames was probably upset by seeing him with his hands around Logan's neck, he didn't understand her comment about him being 'just' her partner.

He was under the impression that their relationship was more than that. Some marriages didn't last as long as they had been partners. Didn't she realize that his concern for her well-being extended beyond the time they were on the job?

Bobby tried not to let his feelings be hurt by Alex's harsh words. "She was just upset," he thought to himself. He filled a sandwich bag with ice cubes, sealed it, and pressed it to his ever-swelling lip. His attempt to cheer himself did little good. "Why would she say that? Doesn't she know that I care about her? Doesn't she realize that I would die to protect her?"

He thought back to the time he had spent sitting next to Eames' hospital bed after her abduction. It was difficult for him to see her in that position, to see her broken in both body and spirit. He couldn't help but feel responsible for what had happened to her, and he promised himself that he would never let anything or anyone hurt her again. He owed that much to her. But she didn't seem to want that…

He understood for the first time how Eames must have felt all those times that he had shut her out. Understanding that helped him to better understand what Eames was going through. For the first time in their partnership, he realized how much he had been taking from Eames, and how little he had given her in return.

Alex fiddled with her cell phone as she haggled with herself over whether she should call Bobby. She felt bad for what she had said to him. She knew that he was only looking out for her. She was thankful that he had been there because she didn't know how she could have handled Mike's tirade. Despite the brave front that she had tried to put up for Bobby, she was afraid.

Up until the moment that Mike grabbed her and then pushed her on the ground, she never would have taken him as the type to be rough with a lady. She thought that he had too much honor for that. Now she didn't know what to think of him. She tried not to think of what would have happened to her if Bobby weren't there.

Bobby's reaction surprised her. She had seen him get physical with perps who were out of line, but nothing like the magnitude with which he had gone after Mike.

She felt paralyzed with fear as she watched Bobby and Mike fight because she didn't know what would happen. All she could do was sit against the wall and scream at them to stop. Fresh tears stung her eyes as the image of Bobby's hands around Mike's neck entered into her consciousness. She realized that she had probably saved Mike's life. If Bobby had clamped down on him any more, he would have crushed Mike's wind pipe.

"Why did I snap at him like that," Alex sighed to herself, "he was only trying to help me." With that, she decided that she would apologize to Bobby, but she would not call him. She would wait until they were at work. This would allow her to slip in an apology. If he wanted to talk about it any further, he could. If not, he could retreat into his work. Either way, she knew that he would feel better.

The down side to this idea was that Bobby had to spend the rest of the weekend wondering what he had done wrong. "It will be okay," she reasoned, "sweating it out for a couple of days will be better for him than having to face me right after the fact. He needs time to think about it. He needs time to analyze it. If he wants to talk about it, he'll call me."

Alex knew that things would be better for them both if they had more time to cool down. Her emotions were too raw for her partner to see right now. It would be too awkward for him to deal with her in this state. It was _her_ job to pick up the pieces after _his_ meltdowns, not the other way around. It was a part of their unspoken contract, and she daren't break it.

"The victim's name is Donovan Moreno. Age 22. By all accounts he was a straight shooter. Lived and worked with his cousin detailing cars at a shop in Scarsdale," Eames stated as she put a paper clip on a group of papers in the case file. "The tox-screen was negative for controlled substances. A hair follicle test was negative for THC."

"So why was this kid caught up in scamming drug dealers," Ross asked as he sat on the edge of a nearby desk.

"The cousin that Moreno worked for was Frank DeVaiser. We found out that Frank has a record. Armed Robbery. He did a stretch upstate and was released early for good behavior," Eames informed.

"His cell mate for part of that stretch was Bruno Calabrasi. As in the Calabrasi crime family," Goren said.

"The Calabrasi family is into organized crime. What does this have to do with a suburban drug ring," Ross asked.

"The Calabrasis lost most of their influence in the organized crime business to the Masucci family," Eames said, "So they moved on to running drugs. They started out running heroin and coke over the Canadian border, but they expanded their territory to the suburbs."

"Unfortunately for the Calabrasis, the Masucci family got into the drug business at the same time as them, only they started out in the suburbs, including Scarsdale. The Calabrasis warred with them for a while over territory, but now they work together," Goren said. He looked through his notes to see if he had anything else to add.

"How does all of this lead to a kid getting murdered with fake drugs on his person," Ross asked.

"We think that it might have been a set up by the Calabrasi family," Goren apprised.

"How so," Ross asked, folding his arms.

"The Masuccis are in charge of the books and they head up distribution. From what we can glean from Narcotics, the Calabrasis are the ones on the streets dealing," Eames said.

"So the Calabrasis hire people to deal for them, and the dealers get their wares from the Masuccis," Ross responded.

"Exactly," Eames confirmed.

"Maybe the Calabrasis set this kid up to be killed, so that it would come back on the Masuccis," Ross thought aloud.

"That's what we think," Goren stated. "By all accounts Moreno was on the straight and narrow. He'd never been in trouble. Everyone we interviewed had nothing but nice to say about him and couldn't believe that he would be caught up in drugs."

"We think that either Bruno Calabrasi or someone affiliated with him used Moreno as a pawn in an effort to discredit the Masucci family. The person that set Moreno up knew that he had little or no experience with drugs…," Eames began.

"It had to be Frank," Goren interrupted. "They were close, they worked together. Moreno's mother said that he moved in with Frank three weeks ago."

"And Frank would have known that his cousin wasn't into drugs," said Ross.

"So when his old buddy, Calabrasi, needed someone naïve to help him pull off his scheme, Moreno must have come with high recommendation," Eames completed. "Calabrasi knew that whoever the Masuccis had supplying for that area would pop anyone who appeared to be screwing him over. No questions asked."

"Frank wouldn't have set up his cousin like that," Goren puzzled, "He must not have known that it was a set up."

"What did he say when you interviewed him," Ross inquired.

"We haven't been able to interview him yet. His aunt, Moreno's mom, said that he was staying with some friends in a house in the country. Somewhere outside of Angelica," Eames replied.

"Did he leave an address," Ross asked.

"Yes. I'm glad that I took it down," Goren responded as he searched for the address in his notes.

"It looks like you guys are going on a road trip," Ross stated.

'Dirty' Harry Dawson, a soldier for the Masucci family, sighed with relief as he closed his cell phone. For the first time in nearly a week things seemed to be going right. The murder in Scarsdale forced one of his top men to go into hiding. Dawson was sure that the murder had to have been a set up by the Calabrasi family. They were constantly looking for ways to stick it to the Masucci family so that they could take over the business. Scarsdale was a prime target because business there was booming. At least it was prior to the murder. Scarsdale was crawling with cops. Dawson had even heard that the Major Case Squad in Manhattan was called in. Things were looking up, however.

Dawson knew that the police would be investigating this case closely. It was only a matter of time before the ties to the Masucci and Calabrasi families were uncovered. Dawson was counting on Major Case to uncover the Calabrasi set up.

Dawson knew that Bruno Calabrasi would be hiding out in his house in Angelica until the fallout from the murder had subsided. Dawson knew that as much as he was counting on the police to uncover the Calabrasi connection, Bruno was hoping that they would pursue the Masucci angle.

Harry had sent some of his men to Angelica to put poor Bruno out of his worry. It was fortuitous that the victim's cousin was also there.

Dawson's original plan was have his men dispose of Bruno, but things changed when he learned through his sources that the victim's cousin would be there. He ordered his men to kill both Bruno and DeVaiser. Dawson knew that it wouldn't be long before the police looked for Frank so that they could question him.

The phone call let him know that his plan was falling into place.

"Do you need another pillow," Alex asked as she watched Bobby attempt to make himself comfortable on her sofa. He was spending the night at her house so that they could leave for Angelica first thing in the morning. The small village was nearly six hours removed from the city, and they decided that it would be better to wait until the following day to pursue their lead. Bobby had reasoned that Frank probably wouldn't be leaving Angelica any time soon.

"I'm fine, thanks," Bobby said, cradling the back of his head in his hands. Alex took a seat in the chair that was perpendicular to the sofa. They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of a chilly autumn rain beat against the window. "Eames…," Bobby started slowly, "I…I'm sorry for what happened Saturday. I acted like a complete barbarian, and I…I guess that I crossed a few boundaries."

"No. I'm the one who should be sorry, Bobby," Alex admitted. "I had no right to say what I had said to you. I was so upset…I think that I needed to vent…"

"Is everything okay now…I mean with us," Bobby uttered awkwardly.

Alex nodded. "I think so…I'm okay…are you?"

"I'm okay…," Bobby trailed off.

"Thank you," said Alex.

"For what?"

"Thank you for protecting me…I don't know what I would have done if you hadn't been here…"

Bobby nodded in understanding. He started to speak, but thought better, realizing that it would be better for them both if he protected their boundaries.

"I'm going to turn in for the night," Alex said as she stood up, "Good night, Bobby."

"Good night," he replied.


	3. Everlong

Chapter Three – Everlong

Alex smiled to herself as she entered her living room, beholding the sight of Bobby sprawled out on her sofa. His head was propped up on the side of the arm rest and his neck was supported by the pillow she had given him off of her bed. His left arm was being supported by the top of the back rest and his left leg was elevated on the arm rest at the far end of the sofa. His right foot was firmly planted on the floor. His head was tilted slightly into his left shoulder, and Alex noticed that his mouth was wide open. The finishing touch on the scene, Alex decided, was the fact that his right arm was wrapped around the small white pillow with pink and blue flowers that she kept on her sofa. He was wearing a pair of black netted basketball shorts and a gray NYPD sweatshirt that appeared to be a size too big.

Bobby stirred slightly. Alex assumed that he must have heard her approaching. His mouth closed, and he looked in her direction.

"Good morning," Alex greeted, leaning against the door frame. Bobby smiled at her, wiping the corner of his mouth on his sleeve as he sat up. "I didn't realize that you were into embroidery," she teased gesturing to the pillow. Bobby looked where she pointed, smiled sheepishly, and placed the pillow in its proper place in the corner of the sofa. "I was going to cook myself some blueberry pancakes for breakfast. You want some?" Bobby nodded his response. He shouldered his overnight bag as he stood up. Alex turned toward the kitchen as Bobby walked through the doorway at the opposite end of the room and into the hallway that led to the bathroom.

A few minutes later, Bobby emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of jeans and a gray and light blue striped semi-casual button down shirt. It always took Alex a few minutes to adjust to seeing Bobby in casual wear.

"Do you have a razor I can use," he asked scrubbing at the stubble on his chin.

"All I have are the pink, girly razors," Alex informed, looking over her shoulder as he flipped a pancake. "I have a feeling that your stubble would tear them up."

Bobby groaned in reply and trudged back to the bathroom. He reemerged a short time later with his overnight bag on his shoulder. He went into the living room and placed it next to the door.

"Breakfast is served," Alex announced as she entered the living room. She was carrying a plate in each hand. She placed the plates on the coffee table and scurried back into the kitchen. "You want coffee, right," her muffled voice questioned from the kitchen.

"Coffee sounds great," Bobby responded, sitting down on the sofa. Alex materialized with two coffee mugs in tow. She sat the mugs on the table and picked up her own plate. "Angelica is a long way away," Bobby said after he finished his first bite of pancake, "I figure that it will probably take us about five or six hours from here, maybe seven, depending mainly traffic and on how much we stop."

"Makes you wonder what a city boy like DeVaiser is doing with friends all the way in Alleghany County," Alex replied, looking out of the picture window that was over her shoulder. It was still dark outside. "I'm not even up this early," Alex moaned, noting the lack of sunlight.

"Its only 4:15," Bobby averred, looking at his watch.

"_Only_ 4:15," said Alex, "I'm usually not up for another two and a half hours."

"You don't know what you're missing," Bobby stated after taking a sip of is coffee, "The sunrises are awesome this time of year."

"I'm sure you would know," Alex said, sitting down her plate. "I'm ready to go when you are."

"I'm ready," Bobby answered as he collected their plates and mugs.

"You don't have to do that," Alex proclaimed.

"It's okay," Bobby reassured, smiling down at her. Alex smiled back. She watched him as he disappeared into the kitchen. "I can drive part of the way there, if you don't want to drive the entire time," Bobby offered when he reentered the living room.

"I might take you up on that," Alex said standing up and stretching. "I'm glad that I had you stay over."

"Why's that," Bobby asked.

"It saved me from having to get up earlier."

"Glad that I could be good for something," Bobby commented opening the front door for Alex.

Alex pressed the unlock button on the keyless entry pad for their black Mercury Mariner service vehicle. Her personal vehicle was still in the parking garage at One Police Plaza. The headlights and interior dome light signaled that the car was unlocked. She shivered against the cool autumn air, regretting that she was carrying her jacket instead of wearing it. She scampered to the driver's side, opened the door, and started the engine. She could tell that Bobby was having similar regrets as he shivered his way into the SUV.

"We should get there sometime around noon," Bobby said as he retrieved the atlas from the pouch on the back of his seat. "Hopefully we won't have to wait too long to interview DeVaiser."

"He picked a bang up place to go," Alex said, "It's almost as if he anticipated that we would want to talk to him. Do you think that maybe he knew it was a set up after all?"

"That's one possible explanation," Bobby said.

"What are you thinking," Alex asked, glancing at him briefly.

Looking thoughtful, Bobby turned around once again and retrieved his portfolio from the back seat. After thumbing through a few papers he said, "Bruno Calabrasi is rumored to have a getaway somewhere near the Genesee River," Bobby mumbled as he fumbled for the atlas, "Guess what town the Genesee River is adjacent to?" 

"Angelica. How much do you want to bet that old Bruno is one of the friends that Frank went to stay with?"

Harry Dawson grumbled as he groped in the dark for his vibrating cell phone. "Hello," he said turning over on his back.

"They're on the move," the voice on the other end informed before the line went dead.

Dawson took in the information he was just given, closed his phone, and went back to sleep.

"The next rest stop is about five miles up the road. Let's stop there," Bobby suggested.

"Can't hold your coffee this morning," Alex teased. They had been on the road for approximately one hour and forty-five minutes. Bobby grinned in response. "It's okay; I have to pee, too." Bobby rolled his eyes and turned his head toward his window.

A few minutes later, they arrived at the rest stop. They both took advantage of the facilities. When Alex emerged from the bathroom, she noticed that the hatch was up on the back of the SUV. She instinctively placed her hand on her holster as she walked around the side of the Mariner. She was both relieved and surprised to see her partner sitting inside the back of the vehicle with his long legs dangling over the bumper and his torso wrapped in the ratty old blanket he'd long ago insisted they keep in the back of their service vehicle.

"I thought that we could watch the sunrise," Bobby said, his breath crystallizing.

Smiling, Alex took her place on the bumper, and Bobby draped the blanket over her shoulders. "Thanks," Alex said, taking in the warmth of the body heat Bobby had transferred to the blanket. They stared silently at the lightening sky. Alex noticed that Bobby was beginning to shiver. "There's plenty of blanket here, Bobby," Alex offered, holding up the end of the blanket nearest to him.

Bobby studied the blanket for a moment, calculating the implications of being in such a precarious position with his partner. Alex lifted her eyebrows as she thrust the end of the blanket toward him. He decided that he would not be crossing any boundaries, considering the nature of the situation. They were both cold and there was only one blanket. The blanket was also large, so he did not have to invade her personal space.

Bobby took his end of the blanket and pulled it over his shoulders. He was surprised when Alex scooted closer to him and her arm pressed against his. She reached for his end of the blanket, joining it with her end of the blanket and closing the gap between the two ends.

"This sunrise better be worth braving the elements," Alex teased.

"If it's too cold…," Bobby began, still looking at the sky.

"I was joking," Alex interrupted, looking at him. She started to wonder if she had made Bobby uncomfortable by sitting so close to him. Although she would consider them to be close friends, they had always kept a physical distance from one another. This was probably the longest physical contact they had shared in nearly a decade of partnership. Sitting close to him was awkward, but it didn't make her feel uncomfortable.

Bobby glanced down at Alex, who was now looking up at the sky. It was different to be sitting so close to Alex. They had always kept their distance from one another, and it seemed odd that they were in such an intimate position now. He had always made certain to give Alex space. Not only because of her gender but also because of the difference in their sizes. Bobby figured that a woman who was more than a foot shorter than him might feel intimidated to have a man of his stature hovering over her. He also felt that over time, sharing in physical touch, no matter how insignificant, could lead to a level of intimacy that could be hazardous to their partnership.

They both new that the position they were currently in meant nothing.

Before their eyes, the sky began to turn a hazy purple that was tinted with orange along the horizon.

Bobby's arm began to feel uncomfortable. Realizing that his options were limited, he gently pulled his arm back and placed it around Alex's back, his hand resting on her shoulder. "My arm was uncomfortable," he said when she looked up at him, "I can… move…if it's not okay."

"You're fine," Alex replied.

They both relaxed a little.

"This is beautiful, Bobby," Alex breathed.

"I told you that you were missing out," he said, giving Alex a smile. Bobby returned his eyes to the sky and watched the sun rise with his best friend.

Mike squinted against the shard of sunlight that burst through his living room window and met him on the sofa where he had spent the night. Sleep had been evasive, so the sun was an unwelcome visitor that nagged at him to do the task he had resolved to do the night before. Mike rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, ran his tongue over his grimy teeth, and raked his hand through his greasy hair. Personal hygiene would be the first order of the day.

Mike let out a long breath as he let the nearly hot water anoint the top of his head. He closed his eyes so that the lather from the soap he used to wash his hair would not get into his eyes. When he was done in the shower, he brushed his teeth, shaved, and put on a pair of jeans and a clean t-shirt.

When he reentered his living room, he let out another long breath as his eyes met the black trash bag that was propped against the door. He trudged to the door and picked up the bag. Bottles and cans clinked and clunked against one another as he walked the bag down the hall to the recycling bin. "They can figure it out," he mumbled to himself as he placed the bag in front of the receptacle marked 'glass.'

He went back into his apartment and retrieved his badge, keys, and service weapon off of the coffee table. "I shouldn't have left these out here like this," he thought to himself. He would have seen and heard if someone had walked into his apartment, but he knew that it was not wise for him to have left his badge and weapon on the table. He pocketed his keys, holstered his gun, and tucked his badge away in the back pocket of his jeans. He went to the kitchen counter and unplugged his cell phone from the charger.

The clock on his phone read 6:15. Today was his day off. He should be enjoying the chance to sleep in, but the war taking place in his mind had robbed him of sleep. He couldn't stop thinking about Alex and how he had messed things up between them. He couldn't take his mind off of how he had fought with Goren, how the world started to fade as Goren's hands clenched around his throat. Part of him wished that Goren had strangled him; it couldn't have been any worse than the battle he was fighting now, three days later, still in his worst nightmare.

Captain Don Cragen had just finished signing is name to the first page in a mound of paperwork when he heard a tap at is door. He was puzzled as to which of his detectives would be at the Manhattan SVU so early in the morning. "Come in," he entreated, leaning back in his chair. When he saw Mike Logan walk through the door, he stood up and practically crawled over his desk to greet him.

"Are you busy," Mike asked, closing the door behind him.

Cragen ignored his question, opting to embrace him instead. "It's been too long," he sighed, gripping Logan's shoulders and looking him over the same way a proud father would study his favorite son. He immediately noted the dark circles under the younger man's eyes and the pallor of his skin. Mike's eyes flickered only for a moment as his former captain appraised him. Cragen noted the change in Logan's eyes. He dropped his hands back to his sides and took his seat behind his desk. "Have a seat," Cragen ordered.

With a nod, Mike pulled a chair up to the front of Cragen's desk. "How are you," he asked.

"I'm fine, but more importantly, how are you," Cragen said, folding his hands on his desktop.

Mike looked down at his hands and began to pick at a piece of dead skin on his forefinger. "I don't know why I'm here…," he muttered.

"Did you deck another city official," Cragen joked in an effort to lighten the mood. Mike only shook his head in response, indicating to Cragen that this was indeed a serious matter. "Mike," Cragen began, "you didn't come all the way down here to sit in front of my desk and pick at your fingers. What's up?"

"I think I need help," Logan replied, not looking up from his hands.

"Help? What kind of help," Cragen inquired.

"I don't know," he whispered.

"Did you run into some trouble on the job?"

"No. It's personal," Mike said. He looked up, but did not meet Cragen's stare. As Mike turned his head, Cragen noticed a group of bruises on the side of his neck.

"What happened to your neck," Cragen interrogated. Mike looked flustered and pulled the collar of his jacket up. "Is that related to the 'help' that you need?"

Mike nodded, still not meeting Cragen's eyes, "I got in a fight on Saturday."

"With…," Cragen said, waiting for Logan to fill in the blank.

"I was drunk. I picked a fight with my girlfriend. We had a falling out the day before and I went to make up with her…but…I drank until I passed out that night…when I went over there I was still a little drunk…her friend was there…I was jealous…and things started to get…physical…"

"Physical? In what way?"

"I grabbed her by the wrists and started screaming at her. Accusing her of cheating on me… …I pushed her…she fell on the floor… I left bruises on her…I saw them when I left…"

"Did she do that to you?"

"No. It was her…her friend. He tried to save her from me. We fought. He choked me…I almost passed out. I wish he would have killed me…," Mike fought back the tears that burned his eyes. He looked away, hoping that his former captain didn't notice.

"Are you on the job," Cragen questioned. Mike shook his head. "Do you have your weapon?" Mike nodded. "Give it to me," Cragen said, holding out his hand. Mike looked at him indignantly. "I'm not doing this as a captain. I'm doing it as a friend," Cragen stated. Mike took his gun out of its holster and his badge out of his pocket and planted them in Cragen's hand. Cragen placed them in the back of a bottom drawer on his desk. "Have you been to see Olivet?"

"No," Logan replied.

"I'm going to call her after you leave. I expect you to go there immediately," Cragen began.

"Yes, sir," Logan said.

"No. I'm doing this as your friend."

Mike nodded his understanding.

"Go to Olivet's office and talk to her. Tell her everything you told me."

"I'm on the job tomorrow," Mike said, gesturing toward the captain's desk.

"I'll leave that up to Dr. Olivet. If she thinks that you're fit, you can come back here to pick up your weapon and I won't say a word to anyone. If you're not fit, or if you don't go to see Olivet, I'll put in a call to Captain Ross at One Police Plaza and deliver them to him personally. Sound fair?"

"Yeah," Mike breathed.

"I'm going to ask you a question now, and I want you to be completely honest with me when you answer it, okay?"

"Shoot."

"How much have you been getting fall down drunk lately?"

"Fall down drunk? Prior to Saturday, I don't know when the last time was. Up until six or seven weeks ago, I'd been drinking…a lot…I guess, but I wasn't getting drunk. I'd make myself a drink or two at night, or I'd go to a bar…"

"Do you think that you have a problem with alcohol?"

"I don't know," Mike responded simply.

"I've been waiting for you," Dr. Elizabeth Olivet said when Mike entered her office. "Captain Cragen said that you paid him a visit this morning." Mike nodded as he eased himself onto a chair. Dr. Olivet sat in a chair across the room from him. She knew that Mike liked to have personal space when he visited her. "Do you want to discuss what the two of you talked about?"

"Why," Mike shrugged, "He already told you everything."

"He didn't tell me anything," Olivet stated truthfully, "He only said that he was sending you to me because he thought that you needed to talk. He said that he had concerns about your fitness for duty. I only assumed that the two of you must have had a conversation."

Mike sat back in his chair, taking in the information he was given. Part of him wished that Cragen had in fact told her why he was there. Not sure how to begin, he decided that he would lay all of his cards on the table because he knew that it would be too painful to dig though the mess that he had made over the last few days to get there. Olivet was a digger, and he had learned over the years that full disclosure was less painful. "Friday night, I was spending time with my girlfriend. I wanted to get intimate with her, but she said that she wasn't ready. I blew up on her and accused her of cheating on me. I went home and got drunk. The next day I went to her house to talk. I was still a little drunk. The guy that I accused her of cheating on me with was there. I got mad and started yelling at her. I grabbed her and yelled at her some more and then I pushed her down. Her friend saved her from me, and we fought."

"Why do you think that Captain Cragen sent you here," Olivet asked.

"He asked me if I thought that I had a drinking problem."

"Do you?"

"I'm not sure. I…I drink kind of often…but I feel like I could take it or leave it. Friday night up through Saturday was the first time in a really long time that I had been that drunk."

"Do you often become violent when you drink?"

"I've gotten into bar fights before if that's what you mean, but nothing like this. I've never _ever_ laid a hand on a woman like that. It freaked me out. I threw out all of my booze this morning. I don't want it if its going to make me hurt someone I love…but I'm afraid…of myself I mean."

"What are you afraid of?"

"I'm scared to death of becoming like my mother. She would hug and kiss me one minute, and then the next minute she would start throwing stuff at me. And when she ran out of things to throw, she'd finish me off with her fists until she either passed out or I offered to get her more booze…I started having thoughts Saturday," Mike said as he balled his hands into fists.

"What kind of thoughts," Dr. Olivet inquired.

"I wanted to hurt her…she had hurt me…I wanted to physically harm her…I wanted to beat her up…to punch her in the face…to make her bleed…If…if it hadn't been for her friend, I would have. I would have hurt her…I don't want to think this way…what kind of monster am I…," Mike buried his face in his fists.

Olivet watched as Mike's back rose shakily. She could hear the muffled sound of his whimpering as he tried unsuccessfully to choke back his sobs. She and Detective Mike Logan had been in a professional relationship off and on for nearly twenty years, but this was the first time she had ever seen him cry.

Rex Hinton anxiously paced around the living room of Bruno Calabrasi's two story forest getaway home. He peered out the curtainless panoramic picture window for what he guessed was the hundredth time in the last hour. "How long does it take to dispose of a body," he muttered to himself, lighting a cigarette.

"They still ain't back," Gio Cassella inquired as he entered the room. At six feet five and one half inches tall, Gio was the enforcer of the group.

"No," Rex sighed, a plume of smoke passing through his lips.

"They weren't supposed to hide him with Jimmy Hoffa," Cassella remarked folding his large arms.

Hinton slicked back his dark hair and took a drag off of his cigarette, "We still have another three hours before those detectives are supposed to get here. I just wish those two would hurry up."

Gio nodded in understanding. "When are we going to take care of Calabrasi?"

"As soon as they get back," Hinton said. On cue, he heard the sound of four-wheelers. "That's them," he said, pointing to the ATVs that appeared over the hill. A few minutes later, Bruno Calabrasi emerged through the back door with Joey and Johnny DeLeo behind him, aiming submachine guns at his back. "Hey, Bruno. We're gonna go for a ride," Hinton stated sadistically. "You got it from here, Gio?"

"Sure thing," Cassella nodded.

"Alright then. I'll give Harry a call and let him know the status of things. You and the twins wait here for the detectives. I probably won't see you guys anymore until it's all over. Remember that you guys probably only have until this evening before the NYPD and the Feds storm this place. You guys have gotta be outta dodge before that. Do the job and then leave. Capiche?"

"See ya later, Rex," Gio replied as Hinton escorted Calabrasi through the front door. Gio gave the twins a nod, and they went to their hiding places. Cassella sat down in a chair in the living room and waited for the Detectives to arrive.

Bobby let out a low chuckle at the sound of Eames snoring in the passenger's seat. He glanced at her and noticed a stream of drool trickling from the corner of her mouth. He smiled to himself as he turned his focus back to the road. As he scanned the quickly passing landscape, he noticed a sign for McDonald's. He decided that it would be a good idea for him and his partner to stop in for a cup of coffee.

Alex started after she felt her hip begin to vibrate. The muffled sound of her ringtone brought her fully out of sleep. "Eames," she said groggily.

"Detective," Captain Ross greeted on the other end, "Are you and your partner going to follow up on Frank DeVaiser?"

"Goren and I are on our way to Angelica right now, sir," Eames informed.

"Very good. How long will it be until you get there?"

"I don't know. Maybe another two and a half or three hours. We might stop for brunch sometime soon," she informed, looking over at her partner, "Which we could be there in an hour, the way my partner drives."

"Tell Goren to let you drive. I don't need two of my best detectives smeared across the interstate," Ross joked, "Brief me when you finish your interview."

"Yes, sir," Eames consented, after which she closed her phone. "The Captain said to let me drive because he doesn't want you to kill us," she snarked.

Bobby rolled his eyes in response.

"I'm rubbing off on you," Alex teased.

"Why do you say that," he asked.

"I'm the one that usually does the eye-rolling." Bobby looked at her and smiled broadly. "Keep your eyes on the road," Alex warned.

Bobby turned his attention back to the road. "You snore," he proclaimed.

"No I don't," Alex retorted.

"Yes you do. And you talk loudly in your sleep."

"Whatever," Alex denied, "At least I'm not a fly-catcher."

"What," Bobby puzzled. He noticed another billboard for McDonalds and noted that he needed to take the next exit.

"You sleep with your mouth gaping open."

"So."

"So…It's weird."

"I don't care," Bobby replied. He checked his mirrors and signaled his way onto the exit ramp.

"You're supposed to be indignant," Alex said, feigning offense.

"Why. It's much more fun turning the tables and making you upset," Bobby shrugged.

It was Alex's turn to roll her eyes. "Where are we going," she said, changing the subject.

"McDonald's. I thought we could use a shot of caffeine."

"Oooh. Fast food coffee. Sounds yummy," Alex replied sarcastically, giving Bobby a syrupy sweet smile.

"I hear that their cappuccino and iced coffee isn't bad," Bobby looked in Alex's direction and noticed her smile. "I get to pay for this one, I take it." Alex smiled and nodded. "I guess it's the least I can do since you fixed me breakfast."

Once they had reached their destination, Bobby parked the Mariner in the surprisingly busy parking lot. He tossed the keys to Alex and they walked in the direction of the restaurant.

"This place seems awfully busy for such a small town," Alex said as she walked through the door that her partner held for her.

"This looks like it might be an agricultural community. Maybe this is where the farmers go for a cup of Joe while they're in town doing errands," Bobby said as he rushed to open the second set of doors for his partner. "I'll get you a hazelnut cappuccino," he said, gesturing to the only empty table. He followed Alex to the table and pulled out her chair.

"That sounds great," Alex said looking up at Bobby. She sat in the chair he offered her and watched him as he went to stand in line. Even after being his partner for so many years, Alex still had difficulty accepting her partner's acts of chivalry. In the first months of their partnership, Bobby's actions often left her feeling as if Bobby thought that she was weak and incompetent. With time she came to understand that chivalry was one of her partner's many quirks, and she went from feeling inferior to feeling vulnerable. Bobby always left her feeling vulnerable.

"They were out of hazelnut, so I got you a vanilla instead," he said sitting the steaming cup on the table. "I also got you something to eat. Would you like a Sausage Egg McMuffin or a regular Egg McMuffin," he asked holding up each of the wrapped sandwiches in turn.

"Which one do you want," Alex responded.

"Whichever one you don't want."

"I'll take the regular, then." They sipped their coffee and ate in silence for a few moments until Alex noticed that Bobby seemed to be lost in his thoughts. "What's on your mind," she inquired.

"Why haven't the Masuccis retaliated? Wouldn't they have realized by now that the Calabrasis had tried to set them up?"

"Maybe they know that we're not going after them so they're sitting back and waiting for the Calabrasis to get their just desserts."

"Maybe," Bobby said thoughtfully, though not totally convinced.

When Mike arrived at his apartment, he went straight to his bedroom. He sat down on his bed and took off his shoes. He lay back on the bed, his feet still on the floor. Covering his face with his hands, he stifled the sobs that threatened to escape his throat. He was plagued with fits of emotion from the time that he had left Dr. Olivet's office.

After his initial breakdown, Olivet had recommended that he take a leave of absence for the next three weeks. She promised to call Lieutenant Van Buren with her recommendation, reassuring Mike that she would tell her that he was having some problems managing stress.

When he left Olivet's office, he went back to the 16th precinct to pick up his gun and badge. Cragen promised that he would not tell Van Buren or his captain at MCS about him confiscating them. Mike promised that the wouldn't do anything stupid. Cragen had reservations about giving the gun to Mike. Mike had reservations about taking the gun from Cragen.

As he drove to his apartment, he received a call from Van Buren. He reassured her that he was going to be okay, and she reassured him that he had collected more than enough personal time to sustain the leave. He was relieved to hear that it would not reflect poorly on his record. She was relieved that Mike had gained enough maturity over the years to recognize when he needed help, rather than blowing up.

"_When did I become a monster,"_ he thought, _"Beaten up almost every day of my life until I was old enough to get away…when did I become like her?"_ He rubbed his hands over his eyes and forehead, his fingers mingling with his hair. He stared up at the ceiling as tears spilled out of the corner of his eyes. _"This is why I never liked crying…once you start, it never stops…with booze…with booze I can turn into an animal…why…why have I never seen this before?"_ He let out a groan as he gripped at the bedspread. He sat up again, his fingers still clenching the bedspread.

Rage began to build inside of him. He felt like he needed to destroy something. His breathing became labored as he clenched the bedspread ever tighter, his knuckles started to whiten. He released his right hand's grip on the bedspread as his hand crept toward the holster that he wore on his hip. The tips of his fingers grazed the grip on his sidearm and then snaked around the rough surface. He eased the gun out the holster, his free hand sliding his badge out of his pocket.

He slid across the edge of his bed to his night stand. He opened the flap on his badge so that the shield was exposed and laid I gently on the night stand. He reached for the pen and notepad that he kept on the corner of the small table. He placed his gun next to his badge. He removed the pen cap with his teeth as he flipped open the notepad. He wrote a simple note on the first blank page he came to:

_Tell Alex that I love her and this was not her fault. Tell Bobby that there are no hard feelings. _

Mike replaced the pen's cap and put it on the corner of the night stand. He looked at the note one more time and then placed it next to his badge on the night stand. He picked up his gun, looking it over once more. He made sure the gun was still loaded. He turned the barrel of the gun toward him, placing his right thumb through the trigger loop. He steadied the gun with his other hand.

Mike took in a shaky breath as he eased the gun toward his mouth. He slid the pistol between his lips, letting his teeth clamp down on the polymer frame of the barrel. He closed his eyes and used both of his thumbs to squeeze the trigger. Mike listened to the familiar sound of the hammer locking into place and the recoil spring working its way backward. He closed his eyes in anticipation. And then there was nothing.

The gun slipped from Mike's hands, bouncing off his thigh and onto the floor firing upon impact. The bullet traveled across the room, burrowing itself in the frame of the dresser. Mike's breath stopped as he beheld the sight in front of him. He exhaled suddenly. His subsequent breaths came in short gasps.

The gun spun around twice and stopped with the barrel aiming in the direction of where it had fired. Mike gripped the edge of the bed, his breath still coming in gasps. His heart was pounding in his ears. He could hear pounding in the distance, and he realized that someone was knocking on his door. He stood up, catching a glimpse of his sheet white complexion in the mirror above his dresser.

"Officer Logan," the muffled voice came from behind the door. Mike opened the door. "Officer Logan! Are you okay? I thought I heard a gunshot," Mrs. Stanley, his super's wife, asked concerned.

"I'm fine," Mike breathed. "I dropped my gun. It shot my dresser, so everything is okay." He attempted a smile.

Mrs. Stanley managed a weak smile. "That scared me to death. I'm glad that everything is under control."

"I'll try to be more careful," Mike reassured. Mrs. Stanley gave him a nod, and he shut the door. He shakily ambled back to his bedroom. He knelt next to the gun, gingerly picking it up.

The gun had jammed. He couldn't believe it. It was a fluke that had happened to him a few times on the firing range, but he never would have anticipated in a million years that it would have happened at then.

He was a man of a meager amount of faith, but that moment he realized that perhaps there was someone watching over him after all.

"Finally," Eames breathed as she took the key out of the ignition. Goren was already out of the SUV. Eames stretched after she closed her door, her eyes squinting against the sun as she tilted her head upward.

Goren took in his surroundings as he stretched his long frame. He observed that the house looked to be no less than eighty years old. He could see that there was an ample clearing behind the house, although most of the land surrounding the house was forested.

Goren and Eames strode in step to the front door. Eames rang the doorbell. A tall, bald-headed man answered the door.

"Hi. We're from the NYPD," Eames began, holding up her badge, "Is Frank DeVaiser staying here?"

"Yes he is," the man answered.

"We need to talk to him," Eames stated.

"He's out back," the man said opening the door wider and motioning the detectives in.

Goren noted that the house seemed to be sparsely decorated and the smell of cigarette smoke hung in the air.

They were led through the kitchen and into what appeared to Goren to be a storage room. The back door was on the wall opposite the door by which they entered the space.

"After you," their host offered chivalrously as he opened the door for Eames.

Goren was about three steps behind Eames when she walked through the door.

Eames sensed movement in the corner of her eye, but before she could process the information, she was shrouded in darkness.

Goren saw the butt of the submachine gun make contact with the side of his partner's head. "Eames," he shouted, his hand moving toward his holster. He was caught off balance as he tripped and fell on the ground.

Gio moved the leg he used to trip Goren out of the way as he pulled out his Glock 30, "Don't move! I want to see your hands," he yelled, pointing the gun at Goren.

Bobby lifted his hands and his head. He could see Eames lying motionless on the concrete her hair covering her face.

"Put your head down," Gio ordered. He motioned for Johnny, who was hiding behind the door to the storage room. "Get his gun and handcuffs. You do the same to her Joey. Get their cell phones, too."

"You don't want to do this," Goren tried to reason.

"Shut up," Gio commanded, kicking Goren in the ribs. Goren gasped as the pain split his side. "If you say another word, I'll blow your frigging head off," Gio promised, cocking his pistol for emphasis.

"Stand up," Johnny yelled, "and take off your coat." He grabbed Goren by the collar.

Goren pulled himself up. He noticed for the first time that his second assailant was carrying Heckler & Koch MP5 submachine gun. He recognized it because he knew that it was standard issue for the Army Rangers. He noticed that a similar weapon was trained on his partner. He was thankful that although she was still out, it looked like she was breathing. He removed his coat, letting it fall on the ground. He knew that for the time being it would be wise for him to do what his captors said.

"Put your hands up," Gio demanded. Goren consented. Gio turned him toward the kitchen.

When Goren looked over his shoulder at Eames, his face met with a stout blow that caught him off guard. He felt the muzzle of the submachine gun being shoved into his back.

"Don't try anything stupid," Gio spat putting his gun to Goren's temple. "Walk."

The two men led Goren back into the kitchen and through another door. Goren realized that he was being led into a basement. He was partially relieved, and partially angered to hear Joey yelling at Eames to stand up.

As they entered the basement, Bobby's nostrils were assaulted by the musty, moldy smell that prevailed in the damp basement. The basement seemed disproportionately smaller than the rest of the house. He could see a bed frame in which a dirty, sheetless box spring was positioned. He spotted a roll of duct tape sitting in the middle of the mattress. He noticed that two sets of pipes lined the wall opposite the bed frame. He observed that the topmost pipe did not run the length of the wall as the other pipe did. He reasoned that the top pipe was probably apart of an old plumbing system that contained lead piping.

Gio and Johnny escorted Goren to the wall that contained the pipes. They handcuffed him to the top pipe, and proceeded to beat him.

Eames winced at the sight she saw when she was led into the basement. It hurt her to see Goren defenseless against their captors' assault.

Gio and Johnny stopped beating up Goren when Joey entered the basement with Eames.

The tall one sauntered over to her. He grabbed her by the hair and threw her onto the mattress.

"Leave her alone," Goren shouted. The twins yelled at him to shut up, pummeling him to drive home their point.

Gio pinned Eames' wrists behind her back. He reached for the roll of duct tape.

Alex wanted to cry when she heard the sound of the duct tape being pulled off the roll, "I refuse to be traumatized by this," she told herself attempting to steady her breath. She had to stay strong, or so she was trying to convince herself. "Bobby's here. He's not going to let anything happen to me."

Bobby felt helpless as he watched Gio tape Eames' hands behind her back. He had to look away after he saw Gio pull out two lengths of rope and begin to tie her legs to the bed post, causing her legs to be spread in a vulgar pose.

Eames looked up at her partner, who was standing almost directly in front of her. She had to bite her lip when she realized that he was being too much of a gentleman to look at her. She looked at the three other men in the room who were staring at her. She had never felt so humiliated. Eames decided that she couldn't look at anyone, so she lifted her chin defiantly and closed her eyes. She cringed when she could hear Bobby attempting to stifle yelps of pain as all three men took turns beating him.

"Which one of us gets to make it with the girl first," Johnny asked, taking a step back from the wall.

"We probably need to rough her up a little first," Joey responded. Gio nodded in agreement and they walked to the bed. Joey slapped Eames across the face.

"Stop it," Goren yelled. "What kind of animals are you guys, hitting a woman like that? You think that makes you a man," he taunted. He hoped that his taunts would take the men's attention off of Eames. His plan worked. The three men went back to the wall and started beating Goren again. The men went upstairs after they became tired of battering him.

Captain Ross closed his phone hard in frustration. He had been trying to make contact with Goren and Eames for more than two hours and he had not heard anything from them since Goren had called sometime before noon to let him know that they were only a few miles from their destination.

He exhaled heavily as he contemplated what to do. It wasn't like Goren and Eames to flake on calling him. He knew that he should have been able to get one of them, no interview lasted more than an hour. Not even an interview with Goren. He would have heard something from the local authorities in Angelica if there had been an arrest or anything of that nature.

Ross did not like the feeling of not knowing where his detectives were and how they were doing. That feeling had been all too real to him before…

He decided that he would sweat it out for another hour.

Johnny started Goren and Eames' service vehicle and drove it away from the road in front of Bruno Calabrasi's house. Joey stuffed Goren and Eames' cell phones and service weapons into the glove compartment. They had let them keep their badges, so that they could be positively identified as NYPD officers when their bodies were found.

"You shouldn't take the us through town," Joey warned, "There are too many people with nothing better do than watch cars who could spot us."

"You're right," Johnny agreed, turning the SUV onto a country road.

"Who's going to pick us up when we dump this thing," Joey asked.

"Dunno. I just know that I'm supposed to call the number that Gio gave me."

"How far are we gonna go?"

"Far enough to get us away from everything. We wanna be outtta dodge when the feds get into this thing. I'm pretty sure that finding two dead NYPD officers would be a big deal."

Mike debated with himself about whether he should call Alex. He knew that she was probably on the job, but he needed to talk to her. He needed to apologize for all the wrong that he had done to her, the things that he had said and done to hurt her. He didn't expect her to take him back, but he needed to get it off of his chest nonetheless.

He wouldn't tell her about what had happened to him, he wasn't going to tell anyone about that, but he felt compelled to right some of the wrongs that he had done recently.

Bobby flinched when he heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs leading to the basement. They had been left alone for an hour, possibly two, by his estimation. He was somewhat relieved to hear only one set of footsteps, but as much as he was relieved, he was twice as concerned. He looked at Alex once more. He had tried to talk to her, but she only stared into space. Other than the bump on the side of her face and a few miscellaneous scrapes and bruises, she seemed to be okay physically. He was afraid that she was starting to succumb to Stockholm Syndrome, a phenomena where hostages began to sympathize with their captors over time. He couldn't begin to fathom the level of trauma she was experiencing.

He knew that she hadn't completely gotten over being kidnapped. There were times when he could tell that something about a case or a place they were in would seem to trigger anger or fear in his partner. She was doing a great job of holding it together, but he still worried about her.

When Alex heard the footsteps approach, she resigned to the fact that whatever was going to happen would happen to her, and she deserved it. Who allows herself to be held hostage twice? At least when it happened the first time, she knew that her partner and virtually the entire NYPD were looking for her. What did she have now? The local authorities probably weren't equipped to handle the type of situation she was in. The NYPD was too far away. There would be no way for them to make it on time.

Gio strutted to the bed and sat on its edge. He ran his fingers through Alex's hair and over her face.

"Don't touch her," Bobby shouted.

"Are you Jealous," Gio sneered, running his hand over Alex's chest.

Bobby cringed at the sight, "Stop it," he yelled. He couldn't believe that Eames wasn't trying to fight back. He struggled against his restraints. He could feel the pipe give a little.

Gio savagely tore at Alex's pants.

Alex closed her eyes and swallowed hard.

Bobby recoiled at the sound of the tearing material. He couldn't stand the thought of not being able to protect Alex. "Kill me first," he screamed. "Please. Kill me." Try as he might, he didn't have enough in him to break free to save her. He thought that if he could get him away from her and closer to him, he might have a chance to try something. If it didn't work, he'd be dead. And he'd rather be dead than to watch some pervert rape Eames. He wasn't going to lose either way, but he wanted to give her a fighting chance.

Gio took out his weapon and approached Bobby. He stood on Bobby's left side and pressed the barrel of the gun into his left temple. Bobby let out a war cry. Gio was startled just enough for Bobby to jam his knee into Gio's groin. He bellowed in pain. Bobby gave him another hard knee in the groin. Gio reflexively grabbed for his gonads, the pistol falling to the floor. Gio doubled over in pain, giving Bobby the opportunity to connect his knee to Gio's chest, knocking the wind out of him. Bobby stomped on Gio's foot as hard as he could, all the while pulling against the pipe.

The section of the pipe his left hand was attached to tore away from the wall. Bobby was able to catch it before it fell to the ground. As Gio struggled to stand, Bobby bludgeoned him on the back of the head. Gio fell limply to the ground. Bobby continued to kick him and pull away from the wall. The next section of pipe finally gave, allowing Bobby to take his weapon into both hands. He stooped down and continued to bash Gio's skull, he stopped when he realized that Gio's skull was split open. He dropped the pipe to his side.

"Bobby," Alex exclaimed. He stood up and rushed to the bed.

"Shhh," Bobby ordered. "I'm going to go upstairs to see if the coast is clear. I heard someone take our car earlier, but I don't know if it was oen or both of the other two." Bobby retrieved Gio's gun from the floor and proceeded upstairs. After doing a sweep of the entire house, he ascertained that they were now alone. At least for the time being.

Bobby re-entered one of the bedrooms and looked through the drawers of the dresser. He knew that he could potentially be disrupting evidence and a potential crime scene, but he didn't care. They needed to leave and he couldn't let Eames leave in pants that were ripped and exposing her underwear. He grabbed the first pair of pants he found and hoped that they would fit Eames' tiny frame. Bobby ran back into the kitchen. He grabbed a knife before he went back to the basement.

Alex cringed at the sound of footsteps running down the stairs. She was relieved to see Bobby emerge from the stairwell.

Bobby rushed to the bed again. He used the knife to cut Alex's restraints.

"Bobby," Alex breathed burying her head in is chest. She coiled her arms around his torso as she began to cry uncontrollably. She knew that she was crossing every line and violating every boundary of their partnership, but she didn't care. Her emotions were too strong and too raw for her to try to temper for her partner. For that moment, Bobby ceased to be her partner. She needed him. She couldn't understand why, but she needed Bobby. Not her partner Bobby and not Detective Goren. "Bobby," she whispered again.

Bobby's hands hovered over her before coming to rest on her back. "I'm sorry," she sobbed, her face still on his chest.

"It's okay," Bobby whispered, resting his chin on the top of her head. He ran his fingers through her hair in an effort to console her.

"I'm so sorry," she whimpered.

"Alex, none of this is your fault," he reassured burying his face in the top of her head. "Please don't cry. We need to get out of here…before they come back."

Alex sniffled in response. She gently pulled away from him and tried to compose herself.

"I brought you some new pants." Bobby gave her the pants. He turned around so that she would have some privacy. "Do you need a belt," he inquired.

"No. They fit well enough in the hips. You can turn around now."

Bobby managed a smile at the sight of Eames in the oversized pants. She had cuffed the legs at least four times. "Let's go," he commanded. They bounded up the stairs. "We need to go out of the back door. We'll need to stay away from the roads, just in case they're out there."

Alex nodded her understanding as they exited the house. Bobby tucked the pistol into the waist of his jeans, and they began to run though the forest.

"Something's not right," Captain Ross thought to himself as he looked at the position of Goren and Eames' service vehicle on the computer screen. It was about 40 miles northwest of where they were supposed to be. "Can you show me their cell phones," he asked the computer tech.

"Sure," the tech responded. With a click of the mouse, Ross could see the two blips on the screen that represented both Goren and Eames' phones. They were in the same place as the SUV.

"Do they have service in that area," Ross questioned.

"Yes," the tech replied. Without a word, Captain Ross turned and ran the four flights down to his squad room.

"Rich. Call the Chief of D's. It's happened again. Both of them. Missing," Ross gasped, his breath steadying. "Major Case Squad. We have two of our detectives missing. The Chief of D's is being contacted. I need Sergeant O'Brien to get in touch with the Alleghany county Sheriff. Remote squad mobilize, everyone else to the conference room, you will be briefed ASAP.

Ross ran into his office and retrieved his vest from its place in the bottom drawer of his desk. He ran down to the parking garage, "Lets move out," he ordered over the walkie-talkie.

Bobby and Alex gasped for air as they stopped in the driveway of the first house they had seen in nearly five miles. They had run most to the way, fueled on adrenaline.

"I hope someone's home," she huffed. Bobby nodded in agreement. They strode toward the house. They ambled up the four small steps and Alex pounded desperately on the door. She could hear the sound of movement on the other side of the door, just before it opened to reveal a gentleman who appeared to be in his early sixties.

"How can I help you, young lady," he said cheerfully.

"My name is Alex Eames. This is my partner Robert Goren. We're officers with the NYPD. We were investigating a case that led us to a house a few miles from here. We were assaulted and held against our will until we escaped. We need you to call 911."

"That's what all the commotion on the scanner is about," the man said. "Come in," he motioned for them to enter the house so they did. He went to his telephone and dialed 911. He told the dispatcher what Alex had told him. "Have a seat. I'll get you some blankets," he said after he hung up the phone.

As Goren sat next to Eames on the sofa, he realized for the first time just how badly he had been beaten up. Both of his sides hurt. His lip, that was almost healed from his fight with Logan, was split much worse this time. He ran his tongue over his teeth, unsure if he still had them all. His jaw hurt, but thankfully it wasn't broken. He was sure that a few of his ribs had been cracked.

He looked Eames over. He could see the knot that had formed on the side of her head. He hoped that she didn't have a concussion.

"I'm okay," she reassured him, seeming to sense his thoughts.

"Are you sure," he inquired, his fingertips gently touching her forearm.

Alex looked away from him and nodded, not wanting Bobby to see that she was shaken. Bobby pulled his hand away, sorry that he had invaded her personal space.


	4. Walking After You

Chapter 4 – Walking After You

"Captain Daniel Ross, NYPD, Major Case Squad," Ross stated, showing his badge to the petite, red-haired nurse behind the counter of the nurses' station. "I'm looking for Detectives Eames and Goren."

"Captain," Eames' voice greeted behind him. Ross spun around.

"Eames. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I got a bump on the head," Eames replied as she pointed to her bandaged forehead.

"And your partner?"

"He's back there winking and grinning at the nurses."

"Is he badly injured," Ross asked.

"He's got a couple of bruised ribs and some bumps and scrapes. Those guys beat him up pretty badly," she said, studying her feet.

Ross noticed for the first time that Eames was wearing pants that were entirely too large to be her own. She nervously tugged the waist upward when she noticed Ross surveying her. Ross wondered why she was wearing pants that were so large. He had an idea, and he desperately hoped that his intuition was wrong. "Did they…examine…I mean…," Ross sighed, struggling to find his voice. He broke eye contact with her as he pointed to her pants.

"They didn't need to," Eames said, her voice barely audible.

"Are you sure," Ross asked, restoring his gaze.

Eames looked away and nodded. "Bobby protected me from him."

Ross nodded. "Okay," he didn't want to push the issue any more.

"Bobby," Alex vociferated as her partner entered the waiting room.

"Eames," he replied as he approached.

"Goren. How are you holding up," Ross questioned.

"I'll be okay," Goren answered, "I pulled a muscle in my arm when I broke out of my restraints."

Ross looked Goren over. His right arm was in a sling. He had two butterfly bandages holding together a deep gash above his right eyebrow. His lower lip appeared to be swollen, his upper lip sported a cut that was beginning to scab over. There was a bruise on his left cheekbone and the underside of his right eye was swollen.

"Detectives," the nurse piped up, "Can you fill out your release paperwork."

Mike pulled back the tab on a can of cold Pepsi as he sat down on the sofa in front of his television. He had just arisen from a nap. The events of the day had taken a lot out of him. He settled back on the sofa and turned on the TV. He nearly spat his soda across the room when he saw a picture of Alex and Bobby appear on the television screen with the heading: _NYPD Detectives Escape Captivity_. He watched in horror as he saw Alex and Bobby's service vehicle being examined by uniformed officers.

Without watching the rest of the report, he went into the kitchen and retrieved his cell phone from the charger. He held down the five key and waited for the phone to automatically dial Ross' number.

When Alex arrived at her house, she was greeted by a message from Mike on her answering machine. Ross had mentioned that Mike called him earlier that evening asking about Bobby and her. She appreciated his concern, but she didn't know how to feel about the gesture. She still cared about Mike, but she wasn't sure if she could ever have romantic feelings for him again. Her years on the force taught her that violent men are rarely rehabilitated. As much as she wanted to trust him, he had all but destroyed her sense of security with him.

She made her way back to her bedroom, turning on every light in the house until she made it to her refuge. She opened the closet and tugged at the chain switch. She left the closet door open. She went to her bathroom and turned on the light. She winced as she slid the shower curtain back. She double checked the lock on her bedroom door and on the window. She closed the curtains.

She sat down on her queen sized bed, her back resting against the head board, her arms hugging her folded legs close to her chest. The large cuff of the jeans she was wearing covered her small feet. She rubbed her hands on her bare arms in an attempt to stifle the chill that suddenly hit her. She buried her face between her knees.

Alex was physically and emotionally tired. It had been a very long day. As much as she wanted to go to sleep, she kept reliving the events of the day. She knew that she would have to make an appointment with her therapist soon. As much as she knew that what happened wasn't her fault, she continued to blame herself. She knew that she shouldn't blame herself.

Tears of frustration stung her eyes and spilled over her lower lids, falling onto the denim covering her knees. She inhaled unevenly, resting her cheek on her thighs. Her therapist had taught her that she shouldn't suppress her emotions, especially when she was alone. Old habits die hard, and it was difficult even now for her to let go. In the past, Alex had always felt guilty for keeping anything but a stiff upper lip when things got tough. Her profession demanded that she remain stoic, even in the face of trials. The world she inhabited had little room for a display of any emotion other than anger. As a woman, her range of affect was even more restricted.

She had done a lot of crying alone in her room in the weeks and months after her abduction. Shedding tears was cathartic, but she always entered these times with caution. She had to remove her mental armor piece by piece.

Slowly, she began to disarm. Her tears flowed sporadically at first. She burrowed her face into her thighs, tears dripping onto the portion of her chest that was left uncovered by her tank top. Her sobs filled the room, a sorrowful requiem played for an audience of one.

A screaming bellow broke from her throat as a vivid image of Gio's gun pressed to Bobby's temple entered her consciousness. She recalled how is lips trembled as he begged for their captor to take his life. She cried harder as her mind wandered to what could have been.

She became angry at Bobby for taking such a stupid risk. What if he had been killed? She would have been left alone on the bed, alone with that monster. She was angry at him for always being her white knight. First with Gage, then with Mike, and now…now he was willing to let her watch him die, for her to see some perp blow his brains out.

Alex wailed louder as she realized that although she was angry at Bobby, she wanted him to be there with her in that moment. She was scared. She was alone. She partially regretted turning down her sister's invitation to go spend time with her nephew. Alex didn't want her nephew to see her in her current state.

She covered her mouth with her hands. Alex fought to regain composure. She looked at the phone that sat on the table next to her. She grabbed it and pressed it to her ear. She let the dial tone drone in her ear for a moment before she placed the phone back on the hook. She couldn't call Bobby. She needed to be angry at him.

Bobby sat on the floor of his bedroom with his back against his closet door. He picked at the tape on his right wrist. It had gotten wet when he took his shower. His sling was still hanging from the knob of his bathroom door. The tape finally broke. He unwound it and examined the marks the handcuffs made, sucking in his breath when he probed too hard. He brought his left wrist to his right hand. He didn't want to move his arm too much. He freed his left wrist and prodded at it with his extended index finger. The skin was damp and raw from being exposed to water.

He thought about the man whose life he had taken earlier that day. He wondered if he had a wife or girlfriend and children. Bobby shook the thoughts out of his head. He knew that he couldn't think about it. He couldn't let himself begin to sympathize.

He turned his thoughts to his partner. He wondered how she was faring. He knew that all of the questioning they had to endure was difficult for her. It was difficult for him. It was hard to relive what had happened to them. His mind had been inundated with unwanted remembrances of the events. He could vividly recall the butt of the submachine gun striking Eames. He could hear her pants ripping as their captor attempted to get at her. His mind always came back to that. It was followed by a wave of emotion.

He was glad that he had been able to fight his attacker off. He also felt guilty for his selfishness. He felt selfish for not wanting to live if he couldn't protect Eames.

Bobby rubbed the back of his neck and heaved a deep sigh. He debated whether or not he should call to check on her. He knew that she probably needed time to mentally sort through everything that had happened, but he was concerned about how she was doing. He was concerned that she would be blaming herself for what had happened to them.

He cautiously pulled himself off of the floor, making certain not to disrupt his arm. He groaned when his sides began to smart. He made is way to the bathroom. He put on his sling as he proceeded to the medicine cabinet. He opened the bottle of anti-inflammatory medicine and placed the pill on his tongue. He turned on the faucet and cupped his hand under the stream. He brought his hand to his mouth, swallowing the water and the pill in one gulp.

He went back to his bedroom. He opened the closet and chose the suit he planned to wear to work the next day. He lay on his bed and drifted into a fitful sleep.

"Detective Goren," Ross greeted, surprise evident in his voice, "You realize that you have two weeks of personal time."

"I know, but I would rather get back to work," Bobby said as he settled behind his desk.

"Your case has been handed over to the Feds," Ross informed, taking a sip of coffee.

"I thought that it would be. I wanted to get our paperwork in order," Bobby said as he thumbed through a stack of papers. He longed for his leather binder, but it was being examined along with their cell phones for any evidence of who the other men were.

Ross nodded as he ambled to his office. He decided that he would spare Goren a lecture on the virtues of taking it easy.

"Eames," Bobby said, lifting his eyebrows in astonishment. "Why are you here?"

"Same reason why you're here," she responded.

"Detectives," Ross beckoned, motioning them into his office. Goren and Eames stood in unison and scurried into the captain's office. "What do you two think you're doing," he asked after the detectives sat down.

"We're working on our case," Eames said firmly.

"It was handed over to the Feds," Bobby informed.

"You don't think I know that," Eames retorted, shooting Bobby a harsh glance.

"Detectives," Ross interrupted, "I think that it's too soon for you both to be back at work. So I'm going to refer you to Psych Services for a Fitness for Duty evaluation."

"We don't have time for that," Eames proclaimed, "We have a case to work on."

"No we don't," Bobby corrected, "It's been…"

"It's been handed over to the Feds. I know that Goren, but we still have paperwork to do. I don't need an evaluation. And I don't need _you_ treating me like I'm stupid. You're not the only person with a brain around here."

"Eames, I'm sorry…," Bobby started.

"I want to do my job, and you're keeping me from it…how about you stay away from me? Find someone else to talk down to." With that Eames stormed out of the office.

Goren looked at Captain Ross as he stood.

Ross went to the door and shut it. "I want to have a word with you."

Goren sat on the chair once again. He began to nervously fidget with his tie.

"Is there anything you want to tell me, Detective," Ross inquired.

Bobby shook his head. "Not that I can think of." He didn't make eye contact as he fingered the back of his tie clip.

"How are you doing?"

"My ribs hurt some. My arm is the worst of it."

"I don't mean physically," Ross stated, sitting behind his desk. Bobby was silent. "I think that it would do you a lot of good to talk to someone."

Bobby shrugged. He began to play with his fingers, "I'll go. Since you're ordering me to go."

"Are you concerned about your partner?" Bobby shrugged once more. Ross heaved a great sigh. "Goren," Ross began, "Sometimes things like this can have a negative impact on a partnership. You have to be prepared for that."

Bobby shook his head. "It's nothing," he said in an effort to convince himself more than Ross.

"You're dismissed. Send your partner in here. I would like to have a word with her, too."

Goren exited Ross' office, leaving the door open behind him.

"Did you have fun talking about me," Eames said snidely as she turned away from her partner.

"The captain wants to talk to you," Goren said, attempting to meet her eyes.

Eames sighed and stomped to Ross' office, slammed the door behind her, and folded her arms in defiance.

"Have a seat," Ross offered.

"I'm fine," Eames replied.

"You're dismissed for the day," Ross averred. "Go to Psych Services and then clock out."

"I have a therapist."

"I know, and I think that you should go to see her. I also want you to go through the department's Fitness for Duty evaluation."

Eames sighed.

"Is there anything you would like to talk about, Detective Eames?"

"Yes. There is. Why is everyone treating me like I'm stupid and made of glass?"

"You've been through a very rough ordeal…" Ross began.

"It's not a big deal," Eames interrupted, "I've been through it before. It's not so bad the second time."

"Detective…"

"I want to do my job, Captain, but you're keeping me from it."

"Right now, your job is to get better."

"I don't need to 'get better.' I'm fine."

"I beg do differ, Eames," Ross contradicted. "You almost bit your partner's head off in here earlier. That's not like you"

"Since when are you on his side? Bobby always acts like a know-it-all. He treats me like I'm an idiot and I'm tired of it…" Alex burst into tears. She covered her face in a fruitless effort to conceal it.

"Alex," Ross breathed, moving toward her. He led her to a chair.

She sat down. Her hands were still covering her face.

"You need to take care of yourself."

Alex nodded. "I'm sorry."

"I think that you and Bobby need to take a break from one another. I'm extending your leave to six weeks. And I'm not going to allow either of you to even think about coming back until six weeks are over."

"But Captain," Eames began.

"I know. I'm crazy. I'm going to bring Logan back. After Thanksgiving. He'll be alright on his own for the time being. He'll have to be."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I think that you both need a break. You guys are a great team, but sometimes going through something like what the two of you went through can be detrimental to a partnership. I've seen it happen all too often. I don't want it to happen to you guys."

Eames nodded in understanding.

"I'll dismiss your partner first," Ross stated as he walked toward the door.

Eames wiped away a few stray tears after Ross disappeared into the squad room.

Bobby jumped slightly when he heard a knock on his door. He was deep in thought when the sound broke his concentration. He went to the door and looked through the peephole. He was surprised to see Mike Logan standing on his doorstep. He opened the door.

"Hey," Mike greeted, "I'm sure I'm about the last person you expected to see, but I came to check up on you." Olivet had suggested that he try to rebuild his relationships. She said that being alone with his thoughts would not be good for him. He hadn't told her that he had made an attempt on his life. He would never mention it to anyone. He had a new lease on life, and he was eager to attempt to mend fences with Alex and Bobby.

"Thanks," Bobby replied, "Come in. It's really cold out there." He moved aside as Mike entered the apartment.

"I also brought a goodwill offering," Mike stated as he reached into the inside pocket of his coat. He produced a brown bag that contained a square looking object. "I hope you don't already have it."

Bobby opened the bag and pulled out a CD. "Frank Sinatra with the Tommy Dorsey Orchestra," he gasped, "Thank you." He went to the stereo in the corner of the living room and inserted the disk. "I'll take your coat. You can have a seat."

"I'm sorry about what happened between us," Mike apologized when Bobby sat in the recliner across from the one he was sitting in. "There's no excuse for the way that I acted. I'm glad that you put me in my place. If some creep would have put his hands on Megan that way I would have done the same thing…I just wanted you to know that I'm sorry. I never meant to do anything to hurt Alex."

Bobby nodded. He understood all to well what it was like to do something only to regret it later. "Have you been to see Eames," Bobby asked.

Mike shook his head. "I…I'm afraid to. She probably doesn't want to have anything to do with me. And I didn't know if it was too soon…"

Bobby nodded in understanding.

"How are you doing," Mike asked, wanting to change the subject.

"Not too bad. I tried to go back about a week ago, but Ross sent me home." He purposely left out that Alex had also been there. He hoped that Mike wouldn't ask.

"It's probably for the best," Mike replied.

"Ross gave me the next six weeks off."

Mike whistled, "What are you gonna do with all that time."

Bobby shrugged.

"Ross called me back up to MCS. I thought that it might have something to do with you and Alex being on leave I go back in next week."

"Were you assigned a new partner?"

"No. I think that Ross has pretty much given up on the partner thing with me. When Wheeler gets back, she'll be it. But if she ever has to leave again, I doubt that I'll be reassigned one. That's fine with me. Its hard getting used to a new partner."

The two men sat in Bobby's living room, bonding over Frank Sinatra and Tommy Dorsey. When he worked up enough courage, Mike left Bobby's and headed to Rockaway Beach to visit Alex.

Mike drew in a deep breath as he approached Alex's doorstep. He stood in front of the door for a moment, wondering if he was doing the right thing. "Here goes nothing," he thought as he rapped on the door. A few moments later Alex opened the door.

"Hi," she greeted, attempting a cheerful smile.

"Hi. How are you doing, sweetheart," he asked, his voice gentle.

"I've been better," she said honestly.

"I came to check on you. I wanted to see how you're doing."

"Thanks."

"Can I come in," he asked.

Alex opened the door wider, signaling her consent. Mike stepped into the house. They stood awkwardly in the breezeway. Mike picked at a button on his coat. He desperately wanted to hold her. She stared up at him, the silence causing her to become uneasy.

"Do you want to sit down," she finally asked.

Mike slipped off his coat and hung it on a hook near the door. He followed Alex into the living room, taking a seat at the end of the sofa. Alex sat at the opposite end.

"How are you," Mike inquired.

Alex shrugged, her eyes trained on the wall opposite the sofa. "Ross is put me on leave for six weeks." She was being purposely evasive.

Silence.

"Alex," Mike said turning toward her. He reached for her arm. "Alex…," he trailed off as she shrunk away from him. His heart started to break. He wasn't sure if it wasn't a side effect of the trauma she had experienced or if she was responding to him. He lifted his arm, stroking her shoulder with the back of his hand. "I'm so sorry, Alex. I'm so sorry that this happened to you. I wish that I could change it," he whispered, stroking the hair at the nape of her neck. He moved closer to her. "And I'm sorry for what I did to you…," his voice broke; he cleared his throat and hoped that she didn't notice.

Alex watched as Mike rested his other hand on her waist. He was touching her more gently than he ever had. As much as she wanted to fall into his arms, she knew that she couldn't. She would not allow herself that level of vulnerability with him.

"I understand if you don't want to be with me," he continued, his voice soft and even, "but I need to tell you…I need to tell you that I…I love you. I know that I've screwed things up with us. I'm not even going to ask you for another chance. But I want you to know…I love you." He quickly drew Alex to him, kissing her ardently. He stopped the kiss, letting his fingers run through her hair. He avoided making eye contact with her as he stood. He hurried to the breezeway, snatched his coat from the hook, and walked out the door.

Alex remained on the sofa. She leaned against the back of the sofa and listened to Mike's car drive away.

"I need to buy some groceries," Bobby thought to himself as he spread the last bit of mayonnaise on his homemade hoagie sandwich. The sandwich was his first meal of the day. He had skipped breakfast so that he could make it to his appointment with Dr. George Huang on time. He had been seeing Huang once a week for a month. The visits started as a formality to his being allowed to work again. Huang had conducted Bobby's Fitness For Duty Evaluation, and he recommended that Bobby see him for an additional session.

Huang was pleasantly surprised and impressed with Bobby. He had heard much about the brilliant Major Case detective, much of it about his unconventional methods and that he was somewhat of a 'whack job.' Huang wasn't sure what to expect from him, which was partially why he had ordered a follow up visit. What he found was a man of sound mind, solid character, and vast intellectual prowess.

After the initial follow-up session, Huang and Goren met once a week to discuss various profiling methods. Bobby found that he was becoming increasingly intrigued by Huang's job at the FBI. He had even toyed with the idea of signing on with the joint NYPD-FBI anti-terrorism task force. Huang informed him that they were always looking for more profilers.

Bobby had just settled at the table, when his telephone rang. He pushed his chair way from the table and hurried to the cradle where his phone rested.

"Goren," Bobby said into the phone.

"Detective Goren, this is Agent David Jones with the FBI. I'm calling because Agent George Huang has informed me that you have expressed interest in joining the anti-terrorism task force as a profiler…"

Ross couldn't believe his ears. He leaned forward, stretching his arms out over the blotter on his desk. "If this is what you want to do, Detective, I can't stop you," he sighed.

"I need a change of scenery, Captain," Goren professed truthfully. "After everything that's happened…I think that I need a change of pace. The task-force should dissolve next December. I'd love to come back then, if you'll have me."

"You will always have a place on my squad," Ross stated, extending his hand to Goren. They shook hands as Goren stood.

"Thanks, Captain," Goren responded. He exited Ross' office and shuffled to his desk. He finished clearing his desk. He taped the box that he used to store his belongings shut, placing his leather binder on top of the box. He ambled to the elevator, pushed the down button, and waited for the doors to open. He slid past the people who were alighting the elevator, taking one last look at the squad room as the doors slid closed.

Alex didn't know why she was being called back to the squad a week early for a conference with Captain Ross. She judged by the tone of his voice that it couldn't be good. As she walked into the squad room, she looked around, her eyes coming to rest on the space she and her partner shared. She immediately noticed that Goren's desk was bare.

"Why is Goren's stuff gone," she demanded as she burst into Captain Ross' office.

"Please have a seat, Detective," Ross stated flatly.

"Why is Goren' stuff gone," she repeated, obeying her captain's order.

Ross sighed. "Your partner is going to work on the anti-terrorism task force in Washington D.C."

"He's doing what," Eames huffed.

"He wanted to tell you himself," Ross continued, "But I wanted you to be prepared."

"He can't do that," Alex said.

"It's still technically with the force. We're treating it like he's going to be working with another unit."

Eames tried to take in the information, but it left her feeling as if someone had thrown a ton of bricks at her one at a time.

"You're not going to be able to talk him out of it," Ross stated gently.

"I know," Eames responded, fighting back tears. "Can I go now?"

Ross nodded, and Alex hurried out of the office and to the elevator. She pulled out her phone, letting the phone dial Bobby's number for her. As she expected, his phone went straight to voice mail. She left him a message, telling him to come to her house as soon as he received the message. She hastily wiped tears from her eyes as the elevator doors opened to the parking garage.

Bobby didn't know whether to be happy or mad that Alex had left a message on his voicemail. He was happy to hear from her, but he was mad that this was the first time she had called him since their ordeal. They had not talked since she had blown up on him in Ross' office. He wondered how she was going to take the news of his leaving. He hoped that she would be okay with it, but part of him knew that the odds of that were slim.

He grew increasingly apprehensive as he strode along the walkway that led to Alex's home. When he reached the door, he pressed the bell. Alex opened the door a few seconds later.

"Come in," she said dully. She turned away and walked through the breezeway. Bobby trailed closely behind her. When they reached the living room, Alex spun around on her heel. "When did you plan to tell me that you were leaving the squad," she asked. The hurt was evident in her voice.

"The captain, told you," came Bobby's response.

"You didn't answer my question."

"Soon. I was going to tell you really soon. I wanted to tell you as soon as I decided to leave, but we weren't on speaking terms until now," Bobby said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his overcoat.

"What do you mean that we weren't on speaking terms," Alex asked.

"You tore me a new one in Ross' office before we went on leave," Bobby began, "And you never tried to talk to me after that."

"So you decide to throw a tantrum and leave the squad," Alex retorted.

"I'm not throwing a tantrum."

"Then why are you leaving? Why are you giving up on us?"

"I'm not giving up on anything," Bobby countered. "What was I supposed to do, Alex? You pushed me away."

"It feels different to be on the receiving end, doesn't it?"

"You're being impossible. I came to say good-bye. Now I'm sorry I came." Bobby turned around and walked out. Alex watched his large frame disappeared behind the door. Her eyes filled with tears. She walked to the door. She debated with herself over whether or not she should go out.

Bobby's hands shook as he reached in his coat for his keys. His eyes burned. He looked up at Alex's house and sighed as he turned the key in the ignition. He hesitated, hoping to see Alex appear. He swiped at his eyes with the sleeve of his coat as he put his car into gear. He let the car roll backward. He looked up again, disappointed that the scenery hadn't changed.

Alex turned the door knob and opened the door. She watched as Bobby's car backed down the drive way.

Bobby looked forward one last time. His eyes began to burn again when he saw Alex walking toward his car, tears streaming from her eyes. He put the car in park and flung open the door. They stood in silence for a moment; Bobby leaning against his car, Alex standing five yards away from him. Bobby strode toward her. "Don't cry," he pleaded, placing his hand on her shoulder.

Alex stepped forward, resting her head on his chest. They embraced.

Bobby turned and walked to his car.

"Don't leave," Alex pleaded.

"I'll be home next December."


End file.
